iCan't Breathe Without You
by iPepsi
Summary: Asthma left my life when Sam entered it. Now that we are fighting I find myself gasping for air just a little bit harder, and I have to wonder...was she my cure all along? Two-Shot.
1. Part One

**iCan't Breath without You**

**Part One**

There is a problem with best friends. Don't get me wrong, they are wonderful most of the time. They are there to talk you out of your worst ideas and provide the best company. But it is precisely the ways they make you feel worth so much that gives them the power to later make you feel worth so little when something goes wrong. That is the problem with best friends.

Sam Puckett is my best friend. Or at least she was. Maybe this will blow over like fights with best friends are meant to and I can be confident in my statement of whether our friendship is a present or past affair. But we have been at it for a week already, the longest of any fight I can remember since we met.

It's my fault. It's a wonder how the threat of a habit being interrupted can lead to so much chaos. Change needs to learn the concept of a smooth landing. Sam has never been much of a planner. She never stays over less than once a week, but the day or more of choice are always a surprise. I should have known after all those years that I couldn't have my boyfriend over without a chance of her showing up.

I want to slap myself for opening the door, except Sam would have no hesitation letting herself in had I not answered. Locking the door would have been genius, except Sam knows how to get past those too. Bolting the door could have worked in my favor, except Sam takes pleasure in movie-mimicking stunts such as kicking doors down. So letting Sam in voluntarily was the least splintering and least expensive option when facing the inevitability of an entrance occurring.

Asking Sam to leave was a foreign experience. If there were ever any inconveniences to her staying over before they were too minor for complaint. This particular situation left me split on what to do. After a two month relationship, more of my time still managed to include Sam than my boyfriend. There wasn't any vocalization from him to suggest jealousy or discontent with my time management. However, I made the decision for myself that there had to finally be a night where Sam didn't get priority. Predictably, that was where I made my mistake.

Taking her aside to enforce my choice was painful. She looked worried immediately, most likely because my expression looked apologetic from the beginning. I tried to explain casually, but my nerves got the best of me, and most of what I said came out in jumbled, mumbled speech. The point still managed to come out somehow, resulting in a mixture of pain and anger appearing in Sam's eyes. It didn't take her long to leave, but on her way out her responding words sunk into me like darts. My night was ruined through the actions I took in attempt to preserve it the way I thought I wanted it.

He wasn't allowed to stay to comfort me. Having him remain in the same room was now an unwanted reminder of actions I immediately regretted. The lack of communication between us since I sent him home probably means that our relationship is over. But that doesn't faze me in the slightest compared to the possibility of losing Sam. Best friends aren't supposed to be as disposable as boyfriends. Maybe we both overreacted. I would be willing to take the full blame to have her back though. There is no way she could have meant what she said about 'maybe' not bothering to visit again at all. Neither of us remembers what it is like to have a life fully independent from the other.


	2. Part Two

**iCan't Breath without You**

**Part Two**

Here I stand, outside Sam's trailer, feeling like my lungs are about to explode. Freddie called me barely ten minutes ago to report a mysterious text from Sam. She apologized to him for years of torture, as if the message were meant to be final. It screamed 'danger' and there was no hesitation between dropping the call with Freddie and sprinting out the door. I didn't stop on my way over, not once. Even a cross country athlete would be panting from the intensity of the work out created by blind desperation.

My arm feels detached somehow as I am lifting it to knock on the side door of the miniscule tin bucket Sam calls 'home'. A burning feeling begins to spread in my throat as I go from taking loud, deep breaths to feeling myself fighting to suck in more air. I'm beginning to get lightheaded and it seems inevitable that I'll pass out soon. As I feel my mind slipping away and my breathing becoming frantic, the door opens, the figure that appears looking like an angel in my state of illness.

Her expression is soft, not like it should be considering the fight we've been stuck in. I must look as miserable as I feel, bringing out whatever fragment of our friendship remains to express a concern for my survival. She reaches out to me and supports my weight, dragging me to her mother's antique sofa. The television is turned off and the surrounding area is silent, suggesting Mrs. Puckett is not there to witness the current situation. Sam sits down beside me without a word, reaching behind me to gently rub my back.

It's a miracle, at least to me, that my breathing begins to regulate itself again. Sam must notice too, causing me to wonder just how long it will be before she decides to jump back up and resume hating me. She does no such thing, however, and over the next couple of minutes the hand rubbing my back is reduced to a single finger tracing circles casually.

I look off to the left slightly, wondering whether it's the right time to talk things out, but the sight of a duffle bag and worn suitcase modifies my curiosity. Sam follows my gaze and notices my puzzled expression. She suddenly removes her hand from behind me and slides back on the couch a little more, relaxing. I slide back too, waiting anxiously for her to say something to explain the luggage. Her lips part slightly and I can tell she is bracing herself for the conversation.

"I was going to take off," Sam explains slowly while avoiding eye contact.

Without giving it much thought, I reach out for her left cheek and nudge her face to turn in the direction of mine. Her eyes look strained, like she is holding back tears. It is the second time since we met that she has shown any signs of vulnerability through crying. The first tear finally escapes, but I wipe it away before it can find its way to her chin.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I know an apology isn't enough, but I truly regret hurting you. He wasn't worth it. No guy will ever be worth losing you. Please stay…" I trail off as I can hear myself resorting to begging.

I watch Sam intently, hoping to read her expression to get a preview of how she might respond. Her face fails to show a clear emotion, forcing me to use patience.

"Truth is, the only place I see myself ending up is the streets. If my mom didn't own this trailer already we would have been evicted ages ago. Staying with you probably has saved my sanity. I was angry at my mom when I came over last so I think most of my reaction was meant for her," Sam admits.

I have the urge to hug Sam, so I do exactly that. She looks slightly surprised by the sudden embrace, but her arms end up around me in return anyway. We hold on to each other for what seems like forever, but what is really only about thirty seconds, before we mutually separate.

"Move in with me," I suggest, but with an edge of command to it.

She tilts her head slightly and looks at me, disbelieving.

"You can't tease me like that, Carls. Your dad owns the apartment. Your brother lives there. I can't just barge in with all my stuff and yell 'surprise'!" Sam argues.

I shake my head.

"After seeing how often you spend the night I think Spencer would be relieved to have your presence be predictable and fitting to an actual schedule. You already raid our fridge and use our shower, how much more can you do living with us 24/7?" I tease, lightening the mood for once.

We look at each other, smiling for the first time since our argument.

"Well, I'm already packed, so I guess all there is to do is head home. Except…"

She cuts off her sentence and I give her a stern look, wanting to know the rest right away.

"Did you mean what you said, you know, about no guy ever being worth losing me?"

One look into her eyes and I can see how serious the question is to her. I know the majority of the answer, as far as friendship goes, but there is a gray area I'm not sure either of us is ready to dive into. I recall how I ended up here in the first place and how much it clarifies how I wish to respond.

"Did you notice how the air and I weren't getting along too well when you opened the door?"

"Yeah, it was almost as if you were having an asthma attack," she concluded.

"Exactly. It miraculously stopped when I saw you. Just like I mysteriously haven't had one since we met. Before that the doctors were really worried I was gonna struggle with it. They couldn't explain why it stopped acting up, but I think I can."

Sam looks at me as if I've lost all my marbles, but I continue anyway.

"It's like you're my cure. You are the strongest person I know, and by being around you I become stronger. I need an inhaler about as often as you need a tissue to dry your eyes. As long as we stick together, weakness has no chance at controlling either one of us," I finish reluctantly, knowing I sound like a soapbox.

"Yeah, but what does all that cheese ball stuff have to do with guys?" She questions, standing up and heading towards her luggage.

I stand up too, offering to carry the duffle bag so she'll only have to carry the suitcase, but this doesn't sidetrack us from our conversation for more than a couple of seconds.

"That's just it. They don't matter. You are more valuable to me than I imagine any one of them will ever be."

We pause on the sidewalk just outside the trailer park as I await feedback. I am relieved when Sam turns to me with a smirk on her face.

"So Carly, why don't ya tell me, in a nutshell…what this means for us?"

I chuckle nervously, causing Sam to shake her head in amusement. We take our time walking home as we discuss our future, knowing we'll probably have to circle the block around the plaza a couple times before going inside. This is going to be one long conversation.


End file.
